


Inappropriate Gratitude

by Jemisard



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an entirely human AU, where Charles Xavier more has a habit of taking in strays than a plan to save a maligned minority.</p>
<p>Logan's been keeping an eye on Scott since Charles brought the teenager in off the streets. He's not so sure about the sort of eye that's being given in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inappropriate Gratitude

Logan chewed on his cigar, gaze slanted sideways to keep an eye on the lanky streak of a boy lazing in the sun near him.

It wasn’t common to see Scott outside, but it was summer holidays and the other students were gone home for the break. It was even less common to see him only half dressed, lanky limbs exposed to the sunlight.

It was a far call from the boy who had arrived eight months earlier, who didn’t venture out of layers of clothing and didn’t lift his head from his knees, or his nose from a book.

“I’m getting a drink. Do you want something, Logan?”

He wrinkled his nose, tugging down his hat a bit more. “Grab me a beer.”

He barely looked up as lean legs moved past his vision, looking instead to the book Scott had left behind with his sunglasses as a bookmark. He had read it himself, back when he had first been trying to piece his shattered mind back together. 

A cold bottle was pressed into his hand; he took it automatically, popping the cap off. “Thanks, Slim. Nietzsche, huh?”

“Yeah.” He dropped down gracefully, pulling the book over and putting his sunglasses back on. “I should have read this before I read Beyond Good and Evil, but I started on that and then came backwards. Bit like how I do everything, right?”

“Quit that. You’re just fine how you are.” He didn’t reach over to touch the boy, he wasn’t confident with touch still, but he gestured with the bottle. “You do Chuckles proud.”

“What about you, Logan?” He stretched out on his back, tee riding up to bare a strip of pale skin and lean muscle. “What sort of fine do you think I am?”

Logan had never been much of one for social nuances, but he knew his instincts and his hackles had just twitched with alarm. “Just fine,” he murmured non-committally. 

“You’ve been more than fine to me,” Scott countered. “When I would come out here, you’d follow me. Make sure I didn’t starve or get eaten by the wild life.”

He grunted, not willing to give him fuel for wherever this was heading.

“That first week, when I got lost in the storm, you came out after me. You saved me, stopped me freezing during the night.” He leaned up on his elbows, sunglasses sliding down his nose and big baby blues looking intently at Logan. “I never thanked you.”

“You thanked me plenty, kid.” He had a horrible feeling of where this was going.

“I was horribly weak and you pulled me along. Didn’t accept that weakness. Not you, not the Professor.” He rolled onto his stomach, legs bending at the knees, heels drumming against his denim clad butt.

He was flexible. That wasn’t a helpful thought.

“You weren’t weak. You’d had a miserable time of life. With Jack. You just needed someone to help you up.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. If we were in nature, I would’ve died.”

“No. You’re too strong. You made it through your parents dying. You made it through the orphanage. You survived the streets and then Jack. You’re a survivor. You’re strong.” He hesitated and then laid a hand on one bared shoulder, where the old tee had slid off it. “Don’t take that stuff to heart. Mercy and compassion ain’t weak or immoral.”

“Then why is it the natural state of humans? Humans crave strength. Strength takes what it wants. Revels in what is has and wants.” And suddenly he was there in Logan’s space, hands against his chest. “Life is cyclic. There’s no point fighting it. I can see the cycle happening, happening again, now.”

“Whoa, hang on.” He curled his hands on the thin wrists, the metal in his joints seeming to creak as he moved the boy back. “What cycle, Scott?”

“This cycle. With Milbury. With Jack. With you.” He didn’t struggle being held, just leaned in more. “I’m accepting, Logan. More than. I like you. A lot.”

“I like you too, but-”

“But?” His face fell. “What’s wrong with me? I’m attractive, I know I am, people have offered me a lot of money for my body. I’m old enough to have survived the streets and to be arrested as an adult.”

“Slim, Scott, there’s nothing wrong with your body, except that you shouldn’t be throwing it at an old man.” Again, he tried to guide him back. “I don’t need ‘thanking’ with sex.”

“I want it. I want you, Logan.” The mirrored sunglasses slid between them, falling to the grass. Scott watched him, looking almost breathless, cheeks flushed and lips parted. “I know what I’m doing, I’d be so good to you,” he promised breathily.

“You’re sixteen. You’re a good kid, Scott, but you are a kid,” he protested.

“I’m not a virgin, if you’re worried about that.”

He had known, he had known but the words still sickened him.

And then full lips were pressing against his own, tongue slipping into his mouth and a hand cupping his groin almost delicately.

And God damn him, but he was tempted. However briefly, his body wanted that promise of pleasure, of a willing form against his own.

With a small growl, he shoved Scott back, onto the grass in a sprawl. “I’m not into kids, Scott. I like ‘em old enough to drink and not doing it out of martyrdom.”

It was harsh. Maybe even a touch cruel as he saw the brief flicker of pain, the pout of his lower lip before he snapped down on his emotions and took off inside, face burning with humiliation.

It was harsh. But Logan didn’t regret his choice, even as he picked up the abandoned book and tucked the glasses inside the pages.

He’d return it later and hope Scott would understand why he did it one day.


End file.
